I sigh as Connor pulls out of me and stands up, grabbing his phone and checking the time. The torment and pain are back in his eyes. We get dressed in silence. We have a way of being quiet together, like the silence between us is saying things we knew we can’t. Once we’re dressed and our bags are packed, he stalks toward me and lifts me onto the dresser, grasping my face in his hands with tight desperation, giving me a searing, lingering kiss. When he pulls away, both of us are panting with jagged breaths. His eyes are soft and sad as he scans my face.
“Wars fought over a face like this,” he murmurs like he is talking to himself. My heart stops beating and his thumbs move lightly across my cheeks. “A man would work himself into the ground for it, go down to his knees to beg to keep it,
